Boom!
Her ears rang as the shot echoed, but it hardly mattered. She used her free hand to knock the gun out of Lambert's hand--then she punched him in the throat.
Strong arms around her yanked her backward. Brock's arms. Still she fought, quickly gaining her freedom. Probably because he didn't want to hurt her. As Lambert hunched over, fighting for breath he couldn't catch, Lyndie kneed him in the nose. Cartilage snapped and blood squirted.
His howl of agony cut through the night. He stumbled backward, tripped over a rock.
Lyndie followed him down and, using her knees, pinned his shoulders to the ground. Then--she--whaled. Punch, punch, punch. Her knuckles screamed with pain and bone cracked. Who cared? Punch, punch, punch.
Blood covered Lambert's face. One of his eyes was already swollen shut. His nose was completely out of place, his lips cut in multiple places. Two of his teeth were missing.
Once again, strong arms wrapped around her and hefted her off Lambert--who remained on the ground, unmoving. She twisted and threw another punch, this one aimed at Brock. Contact! Still his arms remained around her, locked tight.
"Let me go," she snarled.
"I'm not going to do that, love." Barely contained fury seethed in his voice. Directed at her--or Lambert? "Lambert isn't going anywhere, and I have the gun. You're safe."
Panting, she stilled at last. A cacophony of voices suddenly hit her awareness. The bar had emptied out, the patrons surrounding the cars and the action.
Jude was holding Ryanne back. "Police and paramedics are on their way," he announced.
Her gaze met her friend's, and worry stared back at her. When Lyndie nodded, all I'm good, I've got this, Ryanne stopped fighting her husband.
Was she good? As her adrenaline crashed, tremors rocked her.
Without any warning, she burst into tears. Turning into Brock, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Soon she began to heave great big sobs, like a little girl who'd finally found hope, who'd finally seen light while standing in the middle of darkness--only to lose it.
Brock cooed at her and petted her hair, and she let him. She was mad at him, yes. He'd done her wrong, most definitely. But he'd also done something James would never do. He'd been willing to take a bullet for her. He'd put her first, as promised, and protected her until the very end.
"I'm so proud of you," he said. "And angry. You put your life in danger. But you were so incredibly brave."
Realization: she'd just beaten up a man who threatened her. It was a dream come true! So why wasn't she jubilant?
When the police arrived, Brock remained at her side, never letting her go. Lambert was arrested and taken to the hospital. He had violated the protective order, and this time she had a witness. Lyndie was examined, gave the officers her statement, and had to endure having pictures taken of her injuries before the authorities allowed her to leave.
Brock drove her home and helped her inside the house, and she offered no protests. The animals bounded over, happy to see their mom and dad, only to switch from merry to concerned, licking her and rubbing against her legs. Perceptive little beasts.
"Scottie," Brock said. "I know you want me gone, but I'm staying. After what happened, I can't let you out of my sight. I just can't."
"Okay." Her voice trembled with the force of her relief. She didn't want to rely on him but didn't want to be alone either. "Thank you."
"Will you let me hold you tonight?"
"I..." She wanted to say yes, which was the very reason she had to say no. She was raw, agonized, and she yearned to be in his arms as much as he yearned to have her there. But taking comfort from him would give him false hope. She needed time to figure out her--their--future.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I'd prefer for you to stay in your bedroom tonight."
"All right. I understand."
He sounded so...sad.
His gaze seemed to bore holes into her back as she made her way to her room. The animals followed behind her.
Heart heavy, she shut and locked the door.
Chapter Twenty
Lyndie paced the confines of her bedroom most of the night, a thousand thoughts tangled together in her mind. When Ryanne and Dorothea arrived a few hours before sunrise to check on her and spend the day keeping her company, she did her best to pull those tangles apart.
"I rebuffed Brock," she said, "and yet he didn't hesitate to shield me from Lambert." That meant something to her. But what?
"Why did you rebuff Brock?" Ryanne asked, lounging against the headboard.
"He lied about our prenup. Made provisions to gain joint custody of our baby. Without telling me!"
Dorothea's brow crinkled with confusion. "Wait. So he wanted to be a father to your child rather than a simple donor...and now we hate him?"
"And don't hate me for saying this, but..." Ryanne's perfect white teeth dug into her bottom lip. "Shouldn't you have read the fine print?"
"Yes, okay. Yes. But that doesn't negate the terribleness of his actions. Had he talked to me, I could have made an informed decision about my child's future." Though--dang him--she did love that he'd wanted to be part of his child's life even before the child had been conceived.
"What are you going to do?" Ryanne asked.
Lyndie sighed. "I don't know." She wanted what her friends had--a rock-solid marriage with an adoring man. And she had almost gotten it, only to lose it.
And she had lost it, right? She had to part with Brock. She couldn't stay with a man who'd thought nothing about the pain he might cause her, no matter the validity of his reasons. Right?
"Well, don't despair." Dorothea rubbed her hands together. "We've been where you are. We can help you figure this out."
Ryanne nodded. "Start at the beginning. Tell us everything."
She did just that, pouring out the good and bad times with Brock. Mostly good, she realized. How many times had he made her laugh? Countless. How many times had he comforted, reassured, and delighted her? Protected her, despite her continued demand to be on her own or bust?
Such a silly Lyndie. Brock was right. And her realization that you didn't have to lose your independence to have someone at your side, that you could help each other, well, that was right, as well. At the time, she'd wondered what she had to give someone like Brock.
Apparently quite a lot. He liked the man he was when they were together. He had a purpose, felt valued.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Ryanne said, "If I didn't love Jude, I'd be throwing myself at Brock right now. He loves you. I'm sure of it every time I see him look at you."
A nod from Dorothea. "Daniel messed up too. For a while he wanted to keep me as his dirty little secret. Part of me wanted to hate him, but when he finally came to his senses, I knew I had a choice. Resent him for his mistake or forgive him and build something great, knowing he'd learned and grown."
"We are not the sum total of our mistakes, sweet pea," Ryanne said. "And thank the Lord for that. I'd have no friends."
"And," Dorothea said, her expression pure sympathy, "you made mistakes too. He didn't tell you about the clause, but you didn't tell him about the unknown calls."
Ryanne nodded this time. "You didn't trust him to handle the situation."
"And one more thing," Dorothea said. "Brock apologized and never said the word but."
She was...right. As morning light filtered through her bedroom window, Lyndie replayed what Brock had said and sucked in a breath. I want you to know the fault for this is mine and mine alone. I betrayed us both. You did nothing wrong. Deep down, I think I did what I did because I liked the idea of having a connection to you always. I think I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, I just didn't recognize the emotion until too late.
Light bulb moment! James and her father had always used the word "but." Brock hadn't made excuses for his behavior, had merely explained his reasoning for the decision.
He wasn't a coward. His confession had taken courage. His apology had taken str
ength.
"Fact is, life sometimes means pleasure and sometimes means pain." Ryanne picked up Mega to set him on her lap and scratch behind his ears. "You live and you get hurt. It's what happens between those times that matters."
"I think you enjoy the times in between," Dorothea said. "I've never seen you so happy."
Happy, yes. Ecstatically so. He comforted her, took care of her in small ways even when she fought him about the bigger ways, made her laugh, made her scream with pleasure. He loved her, and he had proven it with action, almost every day they were together. Think about all the amazing things he'd done for her. His unending support and patience. Everything he'd sacrificed on her behalf, just to make her happy. The comfort he'd so freely offered time and time again. He'd even begged for her.
How could she have told a man on his knees that he couldn't possibly love her for real? An action that did not speak well of her love. Pride hadn't mattered to him. He'd humbled himself--for Lyndie. Because he'd regretted hurting her. Because he did love her and did put her first. Because his feelings for her had nothing to do with circumstance or temporary need.
His feelings for her were forever. In the end, he'd chosen to do what was right. He'd chosen to tell her the truth, stay with her, and fight for her, through good times and bad.
How could she do less?
Because she did love Brock right back. Still! Despite everything--and because of it. She loved him with all her heart, all her mind, and all her body. He wasn't the playboy she'd so often accused him of being, but a dream come true. His love empowered her. With Brock by her side, she'd finally discovered a reservoir of courage.
How could she allow one mistake to define their entire relationship? If his mistakes were placed on a scale next to his victories, the victories would win every time.
And could she blame him for taking measures to be a father to his child? Brock once mentioned that his dad hadn't spent much time around him. He'd missed the chance to have a relationship, and then suddenly his dad was dead and gone, and he couldn't have one.
For the first time in hours, she stopped pacing, a light bulb going off in her head. By being with Brock, she risked nothing but gained everything. A supportive partner. A beloved companion. An incredible future dad. Strike that. An incredible dad, period. He was already father to their pets.
Lyndie already had what her friends had. A love to last the ages.
Excitement tingled inside her. She and Brock had a future!
She glanced at her knuckles; they were cracked, swollen, and discolored, but she wore every mark like a badge of honor. She had protected herself and her man, and dang, she'd kicked butt! A laugh bubbled over.
"There's my girl," Ryanne said with a grin.
Dorothea clapped. "Oh, I'm so excited!
"Life is too short to cater to fear." And she had catered to fear. She should have told Brock about the unknown calls she'd received, should have trusted him to react without resorting to unnecessary violence. Maybe together they could have found a way to stop Lambert before he'd ever shown up with a gun.
They'd both messed up.
"Amazing how quickly a life can change," she added. "In the blink of an eye, your happiness can devolve into sadness. Another blink, your sorrow can be replaced by joy."
"You look so happy," Dorothea said, beaming.
"I am happy." And she was about to be happier, just as soon as she spoke with Brock. If he still wanted her?
He did. He must!
With another laugh, she kissed and hugged both of her friends. "Thank you for loving me and helping me, but I'm going to reconcile with my husband, and the sight of us will burn your corneas, guaranteed, so I'm kicking you guys to the curb. And if you see Brock on your way out, tell him to stay put."
He would still be here, she had no doubts. Waiting for her...
Amid cheers and catcalls, she raced into the bathroom. She showered, brushed her teeth and hair, and dressed in the tiny scrap of material found in the Wedding Night Survival Kit. She covered her skin in the honey and vanilla lotion and downed one of the energy shots. By the time she finished, her friends were gone.
Head high, she walked out of her bedroom and called, "Brock?"
She expected a stampede of animals, but he must have locked them in their playpen outside.
"I'm in the kitchen," he called, and he sounded nervous.
Heart racing, she marched forward. The moment she caught sight of him, she burst into laughter. He was shirtless--and wearing a kilt. My sweet highlander.
"You look gorgeous, Hugsy."
His gaze roved over her and heated. For a moment he didn't seem to breathe. Lust, relief, and happiness became a palpable pulse in the air.
"You forgive me?" he asked softly, hesitant. He stood beside the table, some type of strange machine in the center next to a laptop.
"I do. And I hope you'll forgive me too. I called you a playboy, told you that you couldn't possibly love me, and never told you about Lambert's calls."
"Forgiven." He closed his eyes for a moment. As he released a shuddering sigh of relief, he faced her once again. "Last night after Dorothea and Ryanne came over, I drove to the LPH Protection office to pick up a lie detector. I want you to know, beyond any doubt, that I mean what I say. That I love you and want to have babies with you. That I want to spend my life with you, and no other. That I'm so sorry I hurt you. That--"
She pressed a finger against his lips. "Brock, darling, we don't need a test. I believe you, and I trust you. You made a mistake, and so did I. I ran after telling you I'd stay. I made you suffer all night; because I had to work through some things, yes, but also because I was mad and lashing out."
With one hand, he cupped the side of her face. With the other, he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed. "I love you, Scottie. So much."
"I love you too. Lyndie Hudson plus Brock Hudson forever."
A slow grin bloomed, his relief intensifying to an almost unbearable degree.
"I want our marriage to be real," she said. "No secrets. No divorce."
"No problem," he said and looked her up and down. His pupils dilated, and his respirations increased in speed. "I see you dressed as the sexiest woman in the world this morning."
"Actually, I dressed as breakfast," she said with a smile.
"Good, because I'm starved." He wrapped his arms around her and held on as if he never wanted to let go. But he didn't kiss her or make a move. Instead, he rested his forehead against her shoulder and held her tightly.
A second later, he shuddered with his whole body. Warm droplets splashed on her shoulder. Tears, she realized. Her powerful soldier had been reduced to tears.
Heart aching, she tightened her hold on him.
"I'm so glad I found you," he said. "Thank you for taking a chance on me."
"Thank you for never giving up on me."
He lifted his head. For a long while, their gazes held. Silence surrounded them even as love bound them together. Then he framed her jaw once more and pressed his forehead against hers. "Thanks to you for showing me my worth."
"Thank you for giving me the strength to stand up to a bully."
"You didn't just stand up to a bully, Red," he said with a grin. "You delivered a beating. Like a boss."
"It was wonderful and terrible, beautiful and ugly."
"But worth it."
"But worth it," she agreed.
He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "Last night I realized that while I wanted your forgiveness, I was unwilling to forgive my brother. So I decided to keep Hud and Son Group going. Braydon will run it on a trial basis. He agreed only an hour ago."
Lyndie flattened her palms over his heart--over his racing heartbeat. "I'm glad."
"Braydon also told me that he found out Miranda has been inciting Lambert. My mother hoped he would frighten you enough to end our marriage, or that he would hurt one of us. Or worse. I have proof that she embezzled from my father's company, so I'm having her brought up on
charges. She won't be bothering us again."
So much to process. Lyndie would rifle through the details--later. Right now she wanted to spend quality time with her husband. "Let's go to bed, Brock. Our bed. Because guess what? You're moving into my bedroom. No more sleeping in separate rooms."
"Yes, ma'am. With pleasure." He swept her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Gently he laid her upon the mattress and peered down at her, love glittering in those pale green eyes. "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"You'll never get enough of me."
A slow smile curved her lips. "Lyndie Hudson can't get enough of her man."
A smile curved his lips. "I'm sorry, Red, but you're going to have to prove it."
So she did. Again and again and again...
Epilogue
Two months later
Brock watched his beautiful wife as she passed out Christmas presents. Their animals followed her around as if she were a Disney Princess. Sunlight streamed in through the living room window, spotlighting her. She was smiling. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Smiling and laughing, always loving life.
Her happiness was contagious. Every time he looked at her, he smiled.
Daniel and Dorothea, Jude and Ryanne, as well as Braydon had shown up before sunrise so that they could all celebrate the holiday together.
Ryanne looked ready to pop, and Dorothea's pregnancy was a lot more pronounced.
His friends were content in a way he'd never thought possible. Well, not before they'd ended up in Strawberry Valley.
Three broken men, put back together again by the love of good women.
Braydon was single and claimed he had no desire to settle down, but Brock had caught him watching the couples with envy.
Maybe Brock would suggest Braydon stay for a few weeks. Who knows. The guy could meet the woman of his dreams right here in Strawberry Valley.
Lyndie handed Brock a small box and sat down beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.
Brock had a present for her as well. He'd bought a hundred-and-eighty-six-acre plot of land in Strawberry Valley, where they would have the house of their dreams built as well as multiple guest houses, a barn, a pool, and anything else she desired. He planned to blindfold her and drive her there as soon as they were alone.